Page 13

Maybe fake glasses? Lenses would mute her eye color.

He gave that idea more consideration, but she couldn’t wear those nonprescription readers they’d find in a drugstore.

Not without blurring her vision. Buying clear lenses would definitely call attention to them, to her.

Spinning some story about a theater production might make them even more memorable.

The few hours they’d waste weren’t worth the chance they’d be taking.

“We’re going to be moving around a lot. Contacts might be too difficult to deal with on top of everything else. Let’s wait and see.”

Baggs rounded the corner with a full tray.

Oz tabled the next topic they needed to discuss as he waited for his teammate to join them.

Quickly and efficiently, he distributed the sandwiches and coffees before sitting across from Ayla.

That meant both of them had a wall at their back and they could keep watch for trouble.

Oz didn’t know Baggs well—Ski and Lurch had spent the most time with him—but it seemed as if the team’s new medic was getting impatient.

For damn sure he was strung tight and wanted to look for Iona Desmond.

Too fucking bad. There was no way he was turning him loose before Ayla was disguised, and now that she was, the café was filled with too many people.

Baggs could head out after they finished lunch.

Ayla took a bite of her sandwich and a sip of coffee before she asked, “Since I’m nearly unrecognizable, when are we going to start looking for my sister?”

A note in her voice made Oz pause, but her expression remained calm.

“Because,” she continued, “it’s been nineteen hours since I arrived in Trujillo, and anything could happen to Io while we’re wasting time shopping and eating.”

The fact she was marking the time made this con more precarious than he expected. He didn’t want her to realize they could have finished disguising her in a fraction of the time. He didn’t want her figuring out they could have started the search hours ago.

“This isn’t wasting time. First, you were exhausted last night.

You nearly fell asleep at the table after dinner.

Second, the shopping was critical. You won’t get very far in the search if you get grabbed by the mafia because they think you are your sister.

Third, eating gives you the energy to walk and talk, and conduct a search.

Starving yourself might make you feel as if you’re accomplishing something, but you’re setting yourself back in the long run. Fourth?—”

“We got trouble,” Baggs interrupted quietly. “At your two.”

All it took was a quick glance to identify a couple of Petrova’s lower-level flunkies. Fuck. He saw Ayla turn and headed it off at the pass. “Don’t move,” he ordered. “Keep your head down so they don’t see your eyes.”

“Is it the Russians?” she asked softly as she bent toward her food.

“Yeah.” Oz raised his cup, careful to avert his gaze from the men although he could see them in his peripheral vision. “Keep eating lunch. You’re here with your brother—” he made a slight gesture toward Baggs—“and your husband. We don’t care who those dudes are, we’re just enjoying our sandwiches.”

Baggs appeared amused, but he didn’t lose any of his watchfulness, so Oz ignored it.

While the café wasn’t fast food, it also didn’t serve people at the tables and the two men went to the front to place their order.

“Do we leave now?” Ayla asked quietly.

Oz shook his head. “They took in everything when they came in. They saw our sandwiches were hardly touched. If we leave while they’re up front, they’ll be curious about why we didn’t finish lunch.

Maybe curious enough to come after us, and with the car parked several blocks away, they’d likely catch up.

I’d prefer they don’t think about the three of us. ”

“I don’t know if I can eat.”

“Do the best you can and keep your gaze down.”

“With a little luck,” Baggs said, “they’ll sit up front, near the counter.”

They weren’t lucky. Not only did the flunkies head for a table near theirs, but they’d been served quickly. Oz had been hoping it would take long enough that the three of them would be close to finishing eating and could leave.

“Don’t say anything,” Oz warned Ayla, voice low. “But if you do have to talk, speak just above a whisper and use Spanish.”

Ayla nodded, but she didn’t raise her head. He watched her for a moment. She toyed with her food but wasn’t really eating. He frowned, but he couldn’t force her to finish her lunch. It wasn’t as if he could blame her for her nerves. This had him and Baggs tense, too.

The flunkies were speaking to each other in Russian, and they talked at a normal volume.

That meant they could hear it all. Quietly, Oz asked his teammate, “What are they saying?” Before coming over to covert ops, Baggs had been assigned to a team that worked in Europe.

He spoke Russian as well as Spanish and a few other languages.

“They’re bitching about all the sh—crap assignments they’ve had since arriving in Puerto Jardin. Oh, and they don’t like their boss.” Baggs took a bite of his sandwich.

Interesting. The dudes were unhappy with Petrova. Because of the jobs they hated or something more?

They ate without speaking for a few minutes.

Baggs leaned forward, reached for his coffee, and said, “Today, they are very unhappy because they’re searching for some woman.

They don’t understand why their boss would waste their time on a mere female when there are more important things they could be doing.

” He sipped from his cup, and as he lowered it to the table, he said, “Hell.”

Something in his tone put Oz on edge. “What?”

“They’ve decided to disregard their orders to bring the blonde woman to their boss. When they locate her, they plan to kill her.”